Wednesday, December 5, 2012

One perfect day back in 1976, I had made all the plans
and spent all my hard earned allowance on a picnic in the backyard to cheer my
sister, Anna Grace, up for some unremembered reason.I had mowed the lawn the day before so that
sweet shorn smell still hung in the air calling dinner time to all the birds.The Michigan sky was a deep, impossible blue
with a few fat fluffy clouds floating overhead like giant cotton candy pillows
of spun sugar.Tiger Lilies thickly
bloomed behind the old white garage, their orange and freckled petals wafting
the heady scent of summer.A clothes
line was strung from one corner with half a line full of sheets billowing in
the warm breeze.Down by the grape vines
and my small patch of snapdragons stood the big tree, like a guardian angel
with wings of boughs spread wide, where the line wrapped around and made its
way to the other side of the garage, completing a “V” for “victory” shape for
me.

It
was there I spread my beach towel so we could be dappled by the afternoon sunlight.We were hidden in our own little world imagining
no one could see us. From here, we could survey our small kingdom of backyard
with the huge garden behind us filled with delicious dinners growing towards
harvest. The garden was sectioned like
rooms of a house.Actually, the whole
yard was that way.A real picnic area,
complete with table and a place for the grill, was close by the back door.We could have had our picnic there but there
was white gravel rock was under the table, and I wanted the lush feel of warm
summer grass to sit on.Our play area complete
with swing set and jungle gym, had its own area marked out.Yes, our mother was kind of anal about things
and our backyard showed it.

So
on our hidden patch of grass, my sister and I sat with our bounty of Lay’s
potato chips, French Onion dip, M&M’s, Jolly Ranchers, Milk Duds, and Sprite
to drink for both of us spread all around.Happily we were munching away when out of NO WHERE -SPLUNK! My sister let
loose with a chip gobbed high with dip and landed a direct hit on my
GLASSES!Oh it was ON!Chips and dip flew all over us!Rolling off of the towel and into the grass,
we smeared it all in each other’s hair and on our faces, the both of us
laughing so hard and loud that our mother came out of the house to see what was
going on.She said nothing but went and
stood by the garden hose waiting until we were exhausted of mayhem so she could
hose us off like feral grass monsters.Cigarette
in her hand, she manned the hose like a professional fire fighter with a small
smirk lurking at the corner of her mouth.With all us kids, this was not anything new; we had to be hosed off
regularly.My thoughts drifted back to the
day when I first met my sister as the cold water rinsed grass, crumbs of chips,
dip, and spilled pop from my hair.

There
she lay, not quite a week old, listless from the drugs given to our mother, and
exhausted from the trauma of a long drawn out labor and birth.Her eyes not open and me hoping that when
they did, they would be brown like mine.They ended up being a witchy greenish hazel brown.Barely a sound came from her.I was five and did not understand that this
listless doll-like creature had been hiding in the belly of my mother.Over the next few weeks, I found out quickly
that things had changed and she was the reason.No more treats and surprises from my stepfather; she got them all since I
was no longer the “baby.”I was commanded
to “grow up” and “be a big girl now,” so I simply tried to ignore them all just
as they now ignored me.

Of course, all her quietness changed as soon as I had to
share a room with her.Every night I would lay awake because I knew
that as soon as I fell asleep, she would wake up crying.No one ever heard her but me.I don’t think I ever slept through a night
again.She grew quickly and learned how to
bite, and even if I were to beat her, she would not release her jaws of razor
teeth from my finger.I’m surprised I still
have them all.It’s not like I purposely
would put my fingers in her mouth, but she was always trying to swallow
everything that would fit.I was simply
trying to retrieve the items before she choked to death.Yes, I
got into a lot of trouble for beating on her.

As she got older (and more evil), peace became a stranger
to me except for when I escaped to school.She would follow me around, wanting to do everything I did. I became creative about where I would go but I
don’t think my mom appreciated the time I took her to the roof to jump
off.I was always the “big sister” so I
was the one that had to compromise because I “knew better.”I’m
the one who got into trouble when she would make fun of the lady down the
street with all the cats.It was my best
toys and dolls; she would get a hold of and destroy and never once got into
trouble for it.As I got older, I
learned how to handle her annoying behavior.No more stolen items or crushed eye shadow.No more lip gloss smeared over my mirror. I
finally had figured out where and how to hide my things.

Oh why do we love our little demon sisters? Why did I at the age of six, change her diaper
that time it was so nasty the smell and looks of it made my stepdad vomit? Why did I not let her, when she was two, drown
in the wading pool?Why did I carry her
the five blocks home when she crashed her bike because she was trying to keep
up with me while I was trying desperately to ditch her?Why did I let her, with her ice cold feet,
crawl into bed with me on all those long bitter winter nights when the furnace
went out?Why did I spend hours brushing
and fixing her hair so she would look like the angel that everyone else thought
she was -when I knew better?Why did I
never claim my vengeance by hiding her favorite stuffed clown, Twinkles, when I
had the chance?Was it because if she would
scream like a banshee if she did not get her way?Or was it something else?

My sister can still be annoying but that something else
–that bond of love is there even today.I know my leaving home upset her greatly.She told me she felt lost and alone without
her protector and hero.Thankfully she
has a more rational and real-life view of me now because I’m not sure I could
live up to that.And I don’t think she has ever realized how
many times I could so easily have killed her! We try to touch base a few times each week,
dropping a “Like” or two on our Facebook pages.We will even take a moment to drop a line of real words or a phone call
when we need to hear the sound of the other’s voice.We are a comfort for each other.And
someday, I have no doubt, we will be once again living in the same house, annoying
each other, having chip and dip fights out on the back lawn, being dappled by
sunlight, and glorying in being dubbed by the neighborhood children as “those
weird old cat lady sisters down the road.”

God must exist because someone has to be looking out for
people like Viola Bernadette Mons.I met
her about thirty years ago when her daughter, Rose, and I were going to Clement
High School in Eureka, California.I spent much of my free time at Rose’s house
just to watch in fascination what Viola would do next and with whom she would
do it.See, Viola was a woman who was convinced she
needed a man in order to be whole.Therefore she spent most of her time looking in all life’s cracks and
crevices for that “one true love.”

When left alone at Rose’s house I loved to sneak into her
mother’s bedroom.A gorgeously laid out
room with a huge king sized four poster bed of Teak wood, its luminous drapes
of the sheerest purple hung from a high canopy.A dark purple silk comforter and at least a dozen pillows of assorted
shades of purple completed the luxurious scene.Thick piled dark grey carpet begged bare toes to wade through it. The rest of the room we barely peeked at, our
focus was the large calendar on the inside of the closet.

Each week Viola detailed her work schedule in blue with
her dates scheduled in green.We
marveled at how many different dates she would have each week.Rose said that since her dad died, her mom
was looking for a “new Mr. Right.”It
was amazing to see all the different avenues this woman went to in order to
find “true love” again.She had Pizza with Paul B. on the first
Wednesday evening but his name never appeared again.He must have been a dud.Matthew M. appeared on several Saturdays in a
row for four months for “brunch” and then once for “Church” on a Sunday but
then disappeared forever.He must not
have had a religion that agreed with Viola.There were dates for dancing and dates for romancing.There were meetings scheduled for “parents
without partners” and “lunch box Sundays” which Rose explained to me was when
the woman packed a lunch for two and after church the guys would pick a lunch
box from the table where they were stacked up.He would then have lunch with the lady who brought the box.

Then the internet was invented and internet dating became
hugely popular.Mrs. Mons dived in and posted
her profile all over the net.She
talked about who she was and what kind of guy she was looking for: “I’d like a
man who is like my coffee:tall, strong,
blonde, and sweet.”Some of the sites she
posted on were “Christian” because she wanted a “good Christian man.”

By
this time, Rose and I were out of school but still in each others lives.So when Rose came to me wanting a favor, I
was happy to help.It seems her mom was
planning on moving out of the country to Australia to live with a guy she met
online but never in person.They were
“in love” Viola had declared, so she was determined to sell everything and move
by the end of the next month.Rose had
gotten her mom to agree to allow Rose to email this ‘fine’ gentleman and so she
did.The gentleman, whose name was
Marcus Welby, assured Rose that he had nothing to hide and she could ask him
any questions whatsoever.So Rose asked
him a few questions, like where he lived, his age; seemingly the same questions
one would ask anyone who was being considered as a future step-father.And she brought the information to me.

“I want you to investigate him for me please.” She
pleaded to me “I don’t want my mom to be hoodwinked or hurt.”

I’m an insurance fraud investigator -so my reach is far
and wide.It took me less than three
hours, because I’ve connections in Sydney through my line of work. What I found was bad news.He had been married three prior times to very
wealthy women who died suddenly from ‘natural causes.’Fearing for Viola, I went ahead and composed
a letter to Mr. Welby.It was short and
to the point telling him that I knew who and what he was and that he needed to
immediately terminate his relationship with Mrs. Mons or I would make his
current life extremely uncomfortable. To give strength to my words, a dead kangaroo
was placed on his door stoop by a Walter, a good friend of mine.Him
tripping over the dead carcass born fruit.

Rose came over two days later and told me all about how
Mr. Welby had sent her mother a “Dear Jane” letter breaking things off because
he had recently reconnected with his high school sweet heart.Then she sighed and informed me “Mom already
is making plans to go visit some guy in Virginia for a week because HE may be
THE ONE.”

“Well,” I replied “tell her that if he cuts her up into
tiny pieces and puts her in his freezer, not to call me because she should have
learned her lesson by now.”

Five
weeks later:“Would you go on a road trip
with me to Virginia?Mom called and
needs helps getting away from that Frank guy.”

About Me

on one of my blogs I will be simply talking about things that catch my eye. This will be a wide variety of topics.
on another blog, I will be posting stories that I've written and links to stories I've read and enjoyed.
And on my other blog, I'll be talking all about plants.
I hope you can find some things you also enjoy!